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Sunday, April 28, 2013

I'm Still Standing!

I would like to apologize for not posting recently been real busy. Seems I have put off many things for years and am now trying to get them done. I have been working around the house with projects now that spring is here and I'm back on a normal shift. I actually am beginning to think I'm somewhat normal. (Well now we all know that's not true! HA! HA!)

SEEM'S AS THOUGH A NEW AND HOPEFULLY EXCITING CHAPTER HAS BEGUN IN A OLD FART'S LIFE! (That be me! Another attempt at humor. Damn I love humor, I truly do!)

Many thoughts have crossed my mind. One, I'm toying with is, writing the way my half deaf ears hear's words. I have done some, but wish to try it more when I am attempting my humor. Example is leaving the g off of some words ending in ing, like, something. Why? Hell I don't know, possibly to break up the boredom, Actually to be quite honest to you I don't hear the g on some words. I think it will be a hoot.

I thought of another idea in my meanderin escapades in frustration in tryin to accomplish the simplest of jobs recently while shoppin at what is called retail stores today. Along with that is another thing I'mma kickin around tentatively titled. "Darwinism and Creationism" only it ainna gonna be a what ya think!

A pet project I've been wanting to do fer quite a spell now is buying one of them converter boxes that picks up the digital over the air as in free T. V channels. I live a way's a way from the metropolitan cities where the signals come from. I have one of them tower's from where we used to have a channel master antenna on top of it, about 30 feet in the air. Well now I've noticed them damn little analog to digital converter boxes are becoming hard to find, and well . . . I have a 30 year old Toshiba television set that the housing was made where I once worked and it's no longer in business, and well . . . the television ain't worth diddly-squat to nobody, but fer old times sake I want to see a picture on it again. Any way's  I bought me one of them converter boxes and a relatively cheap all directional inside antenna. I'm only receiving 11 channels through it but am well pleased with the quality of the pictures. Well now old Glen looked up them new type antennas on the internet and for a reasonable price I can get me a powerful antenna and place it on my tower and Lordy! Lordy! Who knows what I'll be able to pick up then! I'll keep ya informed of this project of mine.

Just wanted to let ya know I'm still standin and beginnin  a new and hopefully not the final chapter in me life. Goodnight my friends and thinks fer visitin, Glen View

Tuesday, April 23, 2013


Hello there! I am back on day shift after ten years on the late and later shift, referred to as the grave yard shift. Believe an old warrior of life, it takes some getting used too! Of course the sleeping thing, but it did not take long, I rather smoothly reverted back to it after about a week.

The only thing I'm disappointed in so far is, I haven't found the time to write, OR whatever the hell you might call what I do! I call it relaxing and fun. Going through Crime And Punishment somehow satisfies me in ways I do not understand.

Sure 'nuff I have the same amount of hours, BUT it's different somehow, I haven't put my finger on it, nor wrapped my mind around it yet. My sleeping has been fantastic, it's lights out for eight hours. I tell myself "I haven't gotten in a groove yet," quite possibly that's so.

After fighting so hard to get this job, I'm doing fine with the change of hours and getting used to the people all over again. I'm getting reacquainted once more with the ones still on days.

I can do the job no problem, the time flies and I'm truly loving it. It's the feeling of having to prove myself over at my age, that seems to be gnawing at me. I have been there long enough and proved myself for years. Quite frankly, "it's just me, and will get in a groove in a few more weeks."

It's not the work thing so much, as I think it is, that I was comfortable in a more, slowed down world. Coming home late at night with no traffic out and feeling in no rush. I got so use to just coming home and relaxing and typing on the keyboard. There was no pressure on me to do anything else.  Now, well it just doesn't feel right.

So after a battle to get this job and doing it, it's me, but seems the only person in this old world you can truly count on is yourself!

No, no, it's not about family, that's the only constant in this old world, so take that out of the equation.

Damn, I'm a searching for what I want to say so please hang tough with me and maybe I'll get it out.

There is ONLY "one" person in this old world that we can count on!

No one else will fight our battles. Rarity is when someone stands up for us!

I work to please myself and give all, in every endeavor, no matter!

I come home and evaluate myself asking this question. Did I do my best?

You know I learn everyday, striving to be a better person. Seems I'm never satisfied with my handling of the daily trials and tribulations of dealing with certain, always trying individuals, that seem to be put on this earth as a thorn in my ass!





Sunday, April 21, 2013

Times . . . They Are A Changing!

"Holy Mackeral!" Times sure are a changing. (Oh crap that sure does sound familiar, don't it?)

"Sure nuff," hell everything there is to say has been said over and over (one more time) and over again.

"Well then why in the hell, do we that love to read and write, continue?  (Beats the snot out of me!)

As you quite possibly have noticed "I love to have FUN!" (I'm a trained unprofessional.)


tO mE . . . doting all the i's and crossing all the t's is BORING! (Not only that, I can't, nope, nada!)

Why do I peck around on them letters, chicken pecking like? (Oopsey . . . that be keyboard!)

Ya see, I love a to be spontaneous. (Yep fer sure, that be me. Mr. Glen R. Spontaneous.)

So back to where I started, as in everything there is to say, has been said countless times before.

It be the twists and twangs of different writers, and when poetry hits the mark as in the heart. It's so beautiful, even an old man like me, sheds a tear. The emotional content in a few words say what I can't say in a thousand words. When we feel what the writer is conveying, it fills are hearts, becoming a part of us. We identify with the writer in a special bonding way. And that's so beautiful!


I went to The Shack Saturday to buy a combination VCR/DVD recorder. Okay, maybe I best back up a little, a tad, a wee bit.

AH OH! AM I GETTING ONE OF THEM DISORDERS WHERE YOU HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING THREE TIMES? Maybe not since I actually didn't repeat little, little, little, three times. You know I'm so afraid of getting one of these new fangled disorders. Yep! Seems they keep coming up with new disorders and letters to explain them disorders all the time. The government must be bankrolling these Psychiatrists to keep coming up with this new labeling system. It surely do sound like something the government would do to me.


"I'm out of order, your out of order, dag-nap-it, we're all be out of order!" "And have disorders."

So I'm at the electronic store, gonna buy me something to recorder the television shows we miss sometimes. No! No! No! Don't get me wrong Mr. and Mrs. Me (that kinda cute ain't it?)

Dag-gone it I'll never get this here story a told if my disorders don't take a time out!

Okay! okay! okay! Electronic store to record TV. Well now, old man Mr. Me has not been to this store in many a moons, well many a years, shit this century. Ya see the last time I was there at The Shack place it did not look nothing, I say "nothing" like the store I went in Saturday.

Just recently I retired my 25 year old R. C. A. television, fer me a new 39 inch flat ass screen one yep, it be a Sammy Sung. Man oh man does it have a nice picture. So ya see I tell y'all this because seems I be about 25 fricking years behind the technology. I'm still using a DVD player my brother bought me as a gift a long time ago. It still works fine. The old R.C.A. television still worked fine. Why I decided to warp light years ahead I have no fricking idea. I reckon I had me a few hundred dollars to spend for Christmas, from overtime $'s, and had to buy something. (Damn I'll never get this story told.)

The technology has blown by me so fricking fast, my head won't stop spinning. I asked the lovely sales woman at The Shack about a DVD recorder to record some programs on and since I have many old VHS tapes, I wanted a combination unit like they used to make. (Apparently last century!)

She started talking burners and such. Now I know what a burner is, barely!

I go into this store like I remember it being last century. Now dig this the store is Called Radio Shack. Radio I understand, DVD player, I understand, VCR I understand.

I knew I was in trouble as soon as I opened the fricking door. Half of the store was cellphones and apps. and such stuff. I mosey on back deep into the store, now these stores are small by the mega marts of today. There is not one radio, one TV, one recorder of any kind that I recognize. I look around figuring, I best get the hell out a here. Then the sales person appeared and I stuttered something like, or about recording, television, DVD, VCR and something, hells fire, I be so confused bout now I don't know nothing!

I was beside these satellite dishes and computer what-nots, because I knew what-not they be, and she shows me this right pretty white box and says, you can use this to record off the TV. Man oh man! I never seen anything like it a fore!

I said "thank you very much" and got the hell outta there.

I be perplexed! Well right beside this shack was another store we go into to get some advantage for my dog. Guess what? You'll never believe it! A farm supply store that advertised this item was out! So I have two strikes against me. I go to a national chain store that says they have the best buy. (Oops I just said the name of the store unintentionally. This be a BIG ASS store.

I SEE THIS IS GOING TO TAKE A HEAP MORE EXPLAINING SO I'LL MAKE IT A TWO PARTER, PARTNERS!  Too continue if I don't go brain dead writing it! Maybe I'll wake up and it's just a dream. Nah! I could not be that lucky!

Friday, April 19, 2013

Distortion and Flounder!

This might not click. "What you say?"

I know what I see, and what I feel but . . . explaining it is difficult, well tricky might be the better word, so please bear with me as I attempt. The title seems to say it. Ah, but I see it, and feel it. so I have a leg up on you. Oh hell . . . I'm just going to jump into it and if it works, fine! If it don't I'll erase it!

There are times, not very often, when I see people, where their features seem exaggerated. Oh shit! Now I've done it! Take the most recent scenario as an example. I was watching television and came across an older lady where her features seemed so unnatural, distorted, like a caricature drawing. (I know yer thinking, old Glen has gone off the deep end. Not true! I have been teetering on the edge all my life!)

I'm not aware of the exact state of mind I'm in, but a very relaxed state seems right. Maybe a tad of hallucinating I reckon, only makes sense.

No! No! No! I don't do drugs, smoke marijuana, or drink any kind of alcohol! Nope as straight as an old arrow that has weathered many a storms, or been shot through the air so many times, it's no longer as straight as an arrow. (A wee funny there, ha!)

It's like my mind is slowed down in a different time. (Possibly time warp or displacement. Too much Star Trek, another little funny!) Working in factories all my life you do a job so much and get in sort of a zone, where your body is a step ahead, doing the next movement out of an adrenalin rush. When your in this zone, the job becomes easier, your able to work faster, it becomes so smooth your whole body and mind is in an automatic mode, seems so natural a working high, releasing them time released endorphins, that make you feel so good!

I hope you can identify with that, in some way, otherwise I'm going to look even more crazier than what you already believe I am!

Now that I'm making an attempt to understand, possibly it's the total opposite of working yourself into a nervous state, like a manic high. (Damn! stay with me here as I examine my own mind!)

 (((Damn, that's a scary thought!)))

Well . . . I'm what's considered manic depression/bipolar/@#$%ed up, whatever you wanna call it! Sheesh don't make no difference to me! I go through many phases and once laughed at myself, calling myself "a man of thousand faces/moods/whatever!!!"

So bipolar means highs and lows, but there is so much more to that. Maybe a thousand different feelings or thoughts helps to clarify that.

I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW! Much of me is scattered over 600 posts, and yet still I guarantee you that's not all of me, oh shit1 That could be another "Scary Movie!"

I'm many, many people, wrapped into one, controlled by all activities that I have no control over as I flounder along. (That word flounder I have never used before and now it pops in my mind, but that seems to fit nicely, bout now!) I absolutely MUST look up the definition to that word, one of my favorite things to do.

FLOUNDER, to struggle awkwardly to move, as in deep mud or snow; plunge about in a stumbling manner. ) (Hallelujah!) Also, to speak or act in an awkward, confused manner, with hesitation and frequent mistakes. Yep, that be me!  

Well there was more I think that I think I wanted to say but . . . I think I'll end it on flounder it somehow seems RIGHT TO ME!  Goodnight my friends.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Too Much, Is Too Much!

It's a quarter past nine in the evening as I sit in front of my friend Hewie Picardo. (That is what I call my very first computer.) Unlike the last couple of generations who grew up with a phone to their head and all the gadgets that define who we are, and what we become. (Think upon that for a minute and you'll know what I mean!) That is sad to an old-fashion man! There is not one thing wrong with gadgets, unless they rule, what you are! That is the sad part to an old fart like me.

Gadgets, electronics, automobiles, every and all things should be helpful tools, assisting us like "the helpful hardware man."  Pleeaassee!!!

I have been sprucing up the old homestead. We went to one of them serve yourself mega under thing under 20 acres home improvement stores. Well . . . To be perfectly truthful to you, my friends we have been going every weekend for several weeks. Why?

Okay! okay! okay! Example. After sprucing up the outside of my humble adobe, we wanted a couple new outside lamps above our doors. Have you ever, gone to the lighting department in a megs super-duper hardware store, huumm? I must warn you to take you sunglasses and keep them on during the whole time, also dress with lightweight clothing, like in the tropics, Two departments over you feel the heat coming from a gazillion lights, oh yeah, I kid you not. We park ourselves in front of all them lights hanging on the wall, and on ceiling fans, note them ceiling fans were not spinning. I think I know why that is! It would be like a hot tropical breeze in the Bahama's.

You think I'm jiving ya, don't ya? For y'all in cold climates make a special trip to one of these mega, megalith's do it, find it your self, super stores. I must warn ya, dress light under your arctic coveralls. Shorts and sleeveless shirt be recommended so ya can get a suntan like visiting them tanning salons.    
Man, oh man, our heads were swimming trying to find two fricking lights. We finally decide on the ones we wanted and guess what, they only had one! We finally bought two lights but not before old Glen thought he was going to spontaneously combust.

Okay this was one example but me point is (Drum roll please!) They got too many choices it boggles the mind! Oh yeah! So we have a plan, and you know what they say about plans. "Plan your work and work your plan."

So as to not be overwhelmed and make a hasty decision, we don't do all our shopping at one time. We go looking until our head starts spinning and then get the hell out of there!

We be shopping and buying a little along, so me old mind don't go ka-put, and lock up. I don't have no reset button, and I'm a feared, once I go down, I won't reboot like this here Hewie Picardo of mine!     GOODNIGHT MY FRIENDS!

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

(27) C. P. Part 3 (Chap. 2)

   Razumihin wakes up the next morning troubled and serious. He found himself confronted with many perplexities, he had never imagined that he would wake up feeling like that. He remembered every detail of the previous day, he had received an impression unlike anything he had ever known. He recognized clearly that the dream which had fired his imagination was hopelessly unattainable--so unattainable that he felt ashamed of it.
(Raz as I call him is smitten by Raskolnikov's Sister and mother!)


   The most awful recollection of the previous day was the way he had shown himself "base and mean," not only because he had been drunk, but because he had taken advantage of the young girl's position to abuse her fiancĂ© in his stupid jealousy, knowing nothing of their relationship. What right had he, no one had asked his opinion. Could Dounia be marrying an unworthy man for money? The lodgings? He could not have known the character of the lodgings? Foo! how despicable it all was! And what justification was it that he was drunk? Such a stupid excuse made it even more degrading! In wine is truth, and the truth had come out, "that is, all the uncleanness of his course and envious heart?! Would such a dream ever be permissible to him, Razumihin? What was he, beside such a girl? A drunken noisy braggart! Was it possible to imagine so absurd and cynical a juxtaposition? Razumihin blushed at the very idea and the recollection of how he acted and what he said. He brought his fist down on the kitchen stove!

   "Of course," he muttered to himself, "all those infamies can never be wiped out, I must go to them in silence and do my duty, not asking for forgiveness, all is lost now!"

   He had no right to offend the feelings of others, especially when they were in need of his assistance.

   He brushed his clothes carefully, his linen was always clean. He washed that morning scrupulously. He questioned his stubby chin, "let it stay as it is! What if they think I shaved on purpose?"

   "The worst of it he was so coarse, he had the manners of a pothouse; (saloon) he knew he had some of the essentials of a gentleman. Everyone ought to be a gentleman. He had done little things, not exactly dishonest, and yet what thoughts, he sometimes had! So be it! He'll make a point of being dirty, greasy, pothouse in his manners and he won't care! He'll be worse!"

      He was engaged in such monologues when the Zossimov (the doctor) who had spent the night in Praskovya (Raskolnikov's landlady's) parlor, came in.

   He was going home and wished to view his patient. Razumihin informed him that Rakolnikov was sleeping soundly. Zossimov gave orders they should not wake him and that he would return at eleven.

   "If he is still at home," he added. Damn it all! If one can't control one's patients, how is one to cure them? Do you know whether he will go to them or, whether they will come here?"

   "They are coming, I think," said Razumihin, understanding the object of the question, "and they will discuss their family affairs, no doubt. I will be off. You as the doctor have more right to be here than I."

   "But I am not a father confessor; I shall come and go away; I've plenty to do besides look after them."

   "One thing worries me." interposed Razumihin, frowning. "On the way home I talked a lot of drunken nonsense to him . . . all sorts of things . . . and amongst them that you were afraid that he . . . might become insane."

   "You told the ladies so too."

   "I know it was stupid! You may beat me if you like! Did you think so seriously?"

   "That's nonsense, I tell you, how could I take it seriously? You, yourself, described him as a monomaniac when you fetched me to him . . . and we added fuel to the fire yesterday talking about the painter, you did, that is; it was a nice conversation. If only I had known what happened then at the police station. I should not of allowed that conversation yesterday. These monomaniacs will make a mountain out of a mole-hill . . . and see their fancies as solid realities. . . . In his case his rags, the insolent police officer, the fever and suspicion! All working upon a man half frantic with hypochondria, and with his morbid exceptional vanity! That may well have been the starting-point of the illness. And by the way, that Zametov is an awfully nice fellow, but he shouldn't have told all that last night. He is an awful chatterbox!"

   "But whom did he tell it to, you and me?"

   "What does that matter?"

   "And by the way, if you have any influence on his mother and sister? Tell them to be more careful with him today."

   "They'll get on all right!" Razumihin answered reluctantly.

   "Why is he so set against this Luzhin? A man with money and she doesn't seem to dislike him . . . and they haven't anything,  I suppose? eh?"

   'But what business is that of yours?" Razumihin cried out of annoyance. "How can I tell whether they have any money? Ask them yourself!"

   "Foo! what an ass you are sometimes! Last night's wine has not worn off. Good-bye."

   At nine o'clock Razumihin was at the ladies lodgings. They were waiting for him impatiently. He entered looking as black as night, bowed awkwardly and was furious with himself for doing so. Pulcheria (Raskolnikov's mother) rushed at him seizing both his hands. He glanced timidly at Dounia, she wore an expression of gratitude and friendliness, such complete and unlooked-for respect in place of the sneering looks and ill-disguised contempt he had expected, that through him into greater confusion than if he had been met with abuse.

   Hearing that everything was going well, Pulcheria declared that she was glad to hear it, because "she had something to talk over beforehand." Then followed an invitation to have breakfast with them; they had waited to have it with him. A dirty waiter served in in such a disorderly way the ladies were ashamed. Razumihin attacked the lodgings, remembering Luzhin stopped in embarrassment and was relieved by Pulcheria's questions in a steady stream upon him.

   He talked being constantly interrupted by their questions, describing the most important facts that he knew of in that last years of Raskolnikov's life, concluding with a circumstantial account of his illness. He omitted, however, many things, which were better omitted, like the scene at the police station and all its consequences. They listened eagerly, when he thought he had finished, and satisfied them, he realized he had hardly begun.

   "Tell me what you think? Excuse me, I still don't know your name!" Pulcheria put in hastily.

   "Dmitri Prokofitch Razumihin."      

   "I should like to know his thoughts in general now, that is, how can I explain, what are his likes and dislikes? Is he always so irritable? Tell me if you can what are his hopes and, so to say his dreams? Under what influences is he now?"

   Ah, mother, how can he answer all that at once?" observed Dounia.

   "Good heavens, I did not expect to find him like this!"

   "Naturally," answered Razumihin. "Your three year separation means a great deal. What am I to tell you? I have known Rodion for a year and a half; he is morose, gloomy, proud and haughty, and of late--and perhaps for a long time before--he has been suspicious and fanciful. He has a noble nature and a kind heart. He does not like showing his feelings and would rather do a cruel thing than open his heart freely. Sometimes though he is not at all morbid, but simply cold and inhumanly callous; it's as though he were alternating between two characters. Sometimes he is fearfully reserved! He says that he is so busy that everything is a hindrance, and yet he lies in bed doing nothing. He doesn't jeer at things, not because he hasn't the wit, but as though he hasn't time to waste on such trifles. He never listens to what is said to him. He is never interested in what interest other people at any given moment. He thinks very highly of himself and perhaps he is right. Well, what more? I think your arrival will have a most beneficial influence on him."

   "God grant it may," cried Pulcheria, distressed by Razumihin's account of her son.

   And Razumihin ventured to look more boldly at Dounia at last. He glanced at her often while he was talking, but only for a moment and then looked away. She sat at the table, listening attentively, then got up and began walking to and fro with her arms folded and her lips compressed, occasionally putting in a question, without stopping her walk. She had the same habit of not listening to what was said. She was wearing a dark dress with a white transparent scarf. Razumihin detected signs if extreme poverty in their belongings. Had she been dressed like a queen, he felt that he would not be afraid of her, but perhaps just because she was poorly dressed and that he noticed all the misery of her surroundings, his heart filled with dread and he began to be afraid of every word he uttered, every gesture he made, which was very trying for a man who already felt diffident. (lacking self-confidence)      too continue

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Signs (2)

Signs are fricking everywhere. That's why "nobody reads them!"

Come on now tell the truth, "do you?"

There's even on top of signs! (How the hell are we suppose to read the sign under the sign?) Sheesh!

I was at my local Supermarket and wanted some ground sirloin. There was price signs, so many as to draw my overly bombarded, discombobulated mind with, I could not find the buzzer to buzz for help.

Everywhere you look there are signs, prices, gimmicks drawing your attention!

I could not find the itty-bitty buzzer, approximately one half inch square to summon help. Yep, this old boy kid's ya not! There was signs smackdab in the middle of the fish, the, beef, the pork.

Now the funny thing about all this at least to Mr. Old Ass Glen here is? Beside the fresh meat counter was the deli with all the deli goodies. Man oh man that there fried chicken was being sold as fast as they could fry it up and scoop it out of the grease! There was three workers dishing out heart attack goodies. Nobody! I say! Nobody offered to hep (Yes I know I spelled help, as hep but, I am from country folk as this is GlenView, as in Glen's view, and sometimes I like to have some fun with y'all, okey-dokey!) this old boy who wanted some freshly ground sirloin.

I'm waiting, a hungry man with money to burn, already got me a tomato, some wheat hamburger buns, salt-free tater-chips and want me some freshly ground sirloin, ya see! Wouldn't be much of a burger without the freshly ground sirloin, now would it, huh? It would be a tomato, wheat bun, could put some salt-free tater chips on it I reckon! Dag-gone it that meatless burger ainna gonna satisfy this hungry old fart!

Ya see I be a willing to spend a tad more on me hamburgers to be sure I'm getting something like ground meat and not slop picked off of the floor, with ammonia splattered into it to kill the bacteria, bugs, who the fuck knows what? (Ah oh! I said a four letter word unintentionally! I must explain to my friends, my brothers and sisters, I have been a trying to tone down my use of factory language. It be hard after working in factories fer, damn! too fricking long!

                                            WARNING! WARNING! ALERT!

Ya see, me mind thinks of the word spelled with the proper spelling used appropriately in factory language. So me fingers did not react fast enough in my slip up earlier, when I actually used the proper spelling, so please forgive a @#$%ING old man okay?

DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! Y'all see how hard it is fer me to stay on one thing, causin one thing leads to another and I forgot what I was talking about! It ain't easy being me! I'm a natural alright! I let my mind take me to uncharted territories. I like having fun with ya! I like ya to think what in the world is Glen going to say today?  "HELL I NEVER KNOW!"   Goodnight.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Old Fashion . . .

I have been called, "old fashion."

I'm as proud, as can be, of that!

When at work, I work!

I say, what I think, and . . . think what I say!

Family and friends mean, the most, to me.

I do not drink, nor fool around,

when forced into the corner, I shall stand my ground!

The closest I come to a Texting Teddy, is what your reading now.

I wear my heart upon my sleeve!

I type and post "me" for all to see.

I love rainbows after a storm,

Laughing babies, and puppy dogs, I simply adore,

I shall never, ever . . . get enough!

I still cry at the end of "It's A Wonderful Life,"

The simplistic principles, I hold so dear!

As the world goes mad, I strive to simply, be me!

I'm old fashion and wear my badge of honor!

I said recently "I'm old fashion."

That was taken as negativity in the world of today!

So sad to an old man, who has always gave all!

If that's the tone heard, spoken and thought today,

There shall be no tomorrow, I shed tears for that, I'm old fashion, that way!

Friday, April 12, 2013

Cuckoo's Nest?

It's midnight and I really should be in bed. Especially since I work day shift. Humm . . . why am I still up and not snoring? Beats the shit out of me! It's the end of my first week on my new job. Ha, that's  funny. Why? Well I have done parts of this job for years, but not for eight hours a day and on day shift. Ah, that's the main point. I'm back on days after nine and a half years of working the dreaded graveyard shift! Damn! How time flies don't it? Always, my favoriteist (Yes I know it's supposed to be favorite, but this here's, Glenview, and guess what my name happens to be Glen!)  time of the work week has always been Friday and getting the hell out of here! Just makes me want to shout at the top of my lungs "yee-haw!" A sigh of relief just thinking about two days off away from this insanity/madness/whatever!  (Glenview as in Bellvue Sanitarium, you know nut house as in the movie "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest,")

(((You've never seen it, where have you been all you life?)))

Well now, the job I'll be spending the majority of time doing is my all-time favoriteist job, ever. Taking care of the unloading of trucks, stocking of product, material handling, warehousing and so on and so forth. The other part is general maintenance, taking care of a very important piece of machinery.

I feel the need to explain somewhat, okay? When I went to the graveyard shift pert-nert 10 years ago, I started working on this machine. It's one machine consisting of 14 individual machines working as one. Any way this machine wasn't being maintained and somehow I started fixing simple problems, greasing, basic "preventative" stuff, (maintenance should be used instead of stuff, but . . . I like how stuff, sounds better.) that had been neglected by . . . well leaders.

In a meeting about three weeks ago, where I had to fight to get this job, that was given to me, a gifted manager of words, said to me, "we want to utilize the skills you have accumulated." Well now that strikes me right funny as I look back at that conversation. These skills accumulated were out of dire necessity. Years of neglect on a very important piece of equipment had gone overlooked. I won't spell it out but those of you that have read much of GlenView will know. (Oh shit! Proper leadership has deteriorated, AIN'T IT?)

 (((I know you know what I'm a saying, don't you?)))

Well I happen to like what I'm doing and that's mighty important. You see I'm what's labeled by these shrinks, you know theses overly intelligent nin-ca-poops in the psychiatric community who puts labels on everything with initials, disorders and such. I'm categorized as an introvert.

Well now that leads me into one of my points here tonight on Glenview, where Glen gives his views his way and doesn't care whether you out there think I'm nuts!

I have a favorite comeback when somebody asks me "how are you?"

I reply, "I'm just fine it's everybody else I wonder about!"

I know myself and what I can pretty well capable off.

"It's them others I must come into contact with on a daily basis that I question, A LOT!


Thursday, April 11, 2013

I Felt The Need!!!

I feel the need to write something. I SAY . . . I FEEL . . . THE NEED TO WRITE A LITTLE SOMETHUN, SOMETHUN!!!

It is also right . . . I never know, what I'm going to write about, whether it be right or wrong, doesn't matter. I SAY . . . DOESN'T MATTER!

Nope! I just visit that place where no one can tell me what to say! I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths and let my fingers do the typing.

Well now that may not completely . . . I SAY . . . COMPLETELY BE TRUE!

Unless, my brain is in me fingers . . . I reckon I get a wee bit of help from my mind.

OH SHIT! That's scarier than them SCARY MOVIES!

Yep! Only I ain't shot in Hollyweird!

I come to you un-restrained! After all the name of my blog is . . . ? Glen View!


It's been beautiful here in my neck of the woods for about a week. Each and every day over the last week gave a little glimpse of excitement that's to come. Warm and warmer and still more warmth. It hit about 80 degrees and sunny. Now in springtime when the weather and humidity is on the upswing that means?

"Come on you know!"

Yep, yer right! Rain thunderstorms and such, Now I can handle the rain and thunderstorms, it be that such stuff that I want NO part of!

Well any way I think I was about to make a point but forgot the point! No, no, no! Just teasing my friends!

The grass is turning green, flowers, trees are opening up. BUT it takes both, I say . . . "BOTH THE SUN AND, THEM RAINY DAYS TO MAKE IT ALL COME TOGETHER."

Actually! Today was somewhat refreshing, if you put it into the proper context.

I still remember snow . . . vividly . . . and cold weather . . . brrr!

Witnessing the seasons change, like springtime from old Mr. Winter is exciting, invigorating, um, um, good!

I got off work a slight rain touched me body, all over me body. After a hard day of being inside, the world outside smelled anew. More than anew, it, it was magical! I walk slowly letting the clean warm raindrops caress an old man/s tired body. Guess what? Aw come on! Work with old Glen here!

Okay! Okay! Okay! I'll paint you a picture from a silly old man, to you out there. My favorite time of the day is? Getting off work time! The smell of the factory had flaired my nostrils for nye onto eight fricking hours. (Oopsy let's let that one slide okay?)

I had worked me up a tiny sweat, as I walked out the gates of hell! (Sorry! I actually like my job, but some . . . Never mind!!!)

DAMN! Don't take much to get me off kilter! (Just like the scales of justice! Damn where did that come from?)

Well the rejuvenation of springtime had a right nice effect on old Glen. The rain drops, the warm temperature, the smell of rain, cleansing mother earth, and well an old tired man. I come home and just stare out the window in complete peace and silence, not thinking about nothing. (Just like my mama!) I was filled with warm fuzzies! (No, no, not the cat . . . although, he did later.)




I hope you can FEEL, the point, see a tad of the canvas as I stroke my pen/my keyboard!   


Wednesday, April 10, 2013

(26) C. P. (Part 3 ) Chapter 1 Conc.

   Pulcheria (Raskolnikov's mother) was not perfectly convinced she made no further resistance. Razumihin took mother and daughter by the arm. He still made her uneasy, and though he was competent and good-natured, was he capable of carrying out his promise? He seemed in such condition. . . .

   "Ah, I see you think I am in such a condition!" Razumihin broke in upon her thoughts, guessing them as he strolled along the pavement with huge steps, so that the two ladies could hardly keep up with him, a fact he did not observe, however. "Nonsense! That is . . . I am drunk like a fool, but that's not it; I am drunk from wine, It's seeing you has turned my head. . . . I am utterly unworthy of you! The minute I've taken you home, I'll pour a couple pailfuls of water over my head in the gutter here, and then I shall be all right. . . . If only you knew how I love you both! Don't laugh and don't be angry! You may be angry with anyone, but not wit me! I am his friend, and therefore I am your friend, too. I want to be. . . . I had a presentiment . . . last year there was a moment . . . though it wasn't a presentiment really, for you seem to have fallen from heaven. And I expect I shan't sleep all night. . . . Zossimov (the doctor) was afraid a little time ago that he would go mad . . . that's why he mustn't be irritated."

   "What do you say?" cried the mother.

   "Did the doctor really say that?" asked Avdotya (Dounia) alarmed.

   "Yes, but it's not so, not a bit of it. He gave him some medicine, a powder, I saw it, and then your coming here. . . . Ah! It would of been better if you had come to-morrow. It's a good thing we went away. And in an hour Zossimov himself will report to you about everything. He is not drunk! And I shan't be drunk. . . . And what made me get so tight? Because they got me into an argument, damn them! I've sworn never to argue! They talk such trash! I almost came to blows! I've left my uncle to preside. Would you believe, they insist on complete absence of individualism and that's just what they relish! Not to be themselves, to be as unlike themselves as they can. That's what they regard as the highest point of progress. If only there nonsense was their own, but as it is . . ."

   "Listen!" Pulcheria interrupted timidly, but only adding fuel to the flames.

   'What do you think?" Razumihin louder than ever, "you think I'm talking nonsense? Not a bit! I like for them to talk nonsense. That's man's one privilege over all creation. Through error you come through the truth! You never reach truth without making many mistakes. A fine thing too, in it's way; but we can't even make mistakes on our own account! Talk nonsense but talk your own nonsense, and I'll kiss you for it. To go wrong in one's way is better than to go right in someone else's. In the first case you are a man, in the second you're no better than a bird. Truth won't escape you, but life can be cramped. There have been examples. And what are we doing now? In science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aims, liberalism experience and everything, we are still in the preparatory class at school. We prefer to live on other people's ideas, it's what we are used to! Am I right?" cried Razumihin, pressing and shaking the two ladies' hands.

   "Oh mercy I do not know," cried Pulcheria.

   "Yes, yes . . . though I don't agree with you in everything," added Avdotya (Dounia) earnestly and at once uttered a cry, for Razumihin her hand so painfully.

   " Yes, you say yes . . . well, after that you . . ." he cried, "you are a fount of goodness, purity, sense . . . and perfection. Give me your hand . . . you give me yours too! I want to kiss your hands here at once, on my knees . . ." and he feel to his knees on the pavement.

   "Leave off, I entreat you, what are you doing?" Pulcheria cried, greatly distressed.

   " Get up, get up!" said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset.

   "Not for anything until you let me kiss your hands! That's it! Enough! I'll get up and we'll go on! I am a luckless fool, I am unworthy of you and drunk . . . and I am ashamed, , , , I am not worthy to love you, but to do homage to you is the duty of every man who is not a perfect beast! And I've done homage. . . . Here is your lodgings, and for that alone Rodya was right in driving your Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin away. . . ..How dare he! how dare he put you in such lodgings! It's a scandal! Do you know the sort of people they take in here? And you his betrothed! Well, your fiancĂ© is a scoundrel."

   "Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you are forgetting . . ." Pulcheria was beginning.

   "Yes, you are right, I did forget myself, I am ashamed of it," Razumihin apologized. "But . . . but you can't be angry with me for speaking so! I speak sincerely and not because  . . . hm, hm! That would be disgraceful; in fact not because I'm in . . . hm! Well, anyway, I won't say why, I dare not. But we all saw to-day when he came in that that man is not of our sort. Not because he had his hair curled at the barber's, not because he was in such a hurry to show his wit, but because he is a spy, a speculator, because he is a skinflint and a buffoon. That's evident! Do you think him clever? No, he is a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see, ladies?" he stopped suddenly on his way up to their rooms, "though all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we do talk a lot of trash, and I do, too, yet we shall talk our way to the truth at last, for we are on the right path. Though I  have been calling them all sorts of names just now, I do respect them all . . . though I don't respect Zametov, I like him, for he is a puppy, and that bullock  Zossimov, because he is an honest man and knows his work. But enough, it's all said and forgiven. Is it forgiven? Well, then, let's go on. I now this corridor, I've been here, there was a scandal here at number 3. . . .What's your number? eight? Well lock yourselves in for the night. Don't let anybody in. In a quarter of an hour I'll bring you news, and half an hour later I'll bring you Zossimov. you'll see! I'll run. Good-bye."

   "Good heavens, Dounia, what is going to happen?" said Pulcheria, addressing her daughter with anxiety.

   "Don't worry yourself, mother," said Dounia, taking off her hat and cape. "God has sent this gentleman to our aid, though he has come from a drinking party. We can depend on him I can assure you. And all that he had done for Rodya. . . ."

   "Ah, Dounia, goodness knows whether he will come! How could I bring myself to leave Rodya? And how different I thought our meeting would be! How sullen he ways, as though not pleased to see us."

   Tears came into her eyes.

   "No, it's not that mother. You didn't see, you were crying all the time. He is quite unhinged by illness."

   "Ah, that illness! What will happen, and how he spoke to you, Dounia!" said the mother looking at her daughter, trying to read her thoughts and, already consoled by Dounia standing up for her brother, which meant that she had already forgiven him. "I am sure he will think better of it to-morrow," she added, probing her further.

   Dounia went up to and kissed her mother. The latter warmly embraced her without speaking. They waited for Razumihin's return.

   Razumihin was infatuated for Dounia in his drunken state. Yet apart from his eccentric condition, many would thought it justified. Dounia was remarkably good-looking; she was tall, strikingly well-proportioned, strong and self-reliant--the latter quality was apparent in every gesture, though it did not in the least detract from the grace and softness of her movements. She might be described as really beautiful. Her hair was dark brown, there was a proud light in her almost black eyes and yet at times a look of extraordinary kindness. She was pale, but was a healthy pallor; her face was radiant with freshness and vigour. Her mouth was rather small; the full red lower lip projected a little as did her chin; it was the only irregularity in her beautiful face, but it gave it a peculiarity individual and almost haughty expression. Her face was more serious and thoughtful than gay; nice youthful smiles, light hearted laughter suited her face. Razumihin a warm, open, simple-hearted, honest giant of a man had never seen anyone like her and quite tipsy lost his head immediately. He saw Dounia for the first time transfigured by her love for her brother and her joy at meeting him. Afterwards he saw her lower lip quiver with indignation at her brother's insolent, cruel and ungrateful words--and his fate was sealed.

   He told the truth when he told Raskolnikov's eccentric landlady would be jealous of Pulcheria and Dounia because of him. Pulcheria was forty-three, yet still retained traces of her former beauty, she looked younger which is almost always the case with women who retain serenity of spirit, sensitivity and pure sincere warmth of heart to old age. She was Dounia over again twenty years older. Pulcheria was emotional, but not sentimental, timid and yielding, but only to a certain point. She could give way and accept a great deal even of what was contrary to her convictions, but there was a certain barrier fixed by honesty, principle and the deepest convictions which nothing would induce her to cross.

   Exactly twenty minutes later Razumihin has returned, "I won't come in, I haven't time. He sleeps soundly, he may sleep ten hours. Nastasya is with him, now I'm off to fetch Zossimov, after he reports to you, then you'd better turn in; I can see you are tired."

   He then ran off down the corridor.

   "What a competent and devoted young man!" Pulcheria said exceedingly delighted with him.

   "He seems a splendid person!" Dounia replied with warmth.

   An hour later Zossimov gives a full report to Pulcheria and Dounia. He was flattered that they received him as an oracle. He succeeded in completely convincing and comforting them. According to his observations Rodya's illness was due partly to his unfortunate material surroundings during the last few months, but it had partly also a moral origin, "was, so to speak, the product of several material and moral influences, anxieties, apprehension, troubles, certain ideas . . . and so on."

   "We'll talk to-morrow; go to bed at once!" Razumihin said in conclusion following Zossimov out. "I'll come early in the morning with my report."

    "That's a fetching girl," remarked Zossimov, as they walked out into the street.

   "Fetching? You said fetching?" roared Razumihin, and he flew at Zossimov and seized him by the throat. "If you ever dare. . . . Do you understand?" he shouted, shaking him by the collar and squeezing him against the wall. "Do you hear?"

   "Let me go you drunken devil," said Zossimov, struggling, and when he had let him go. he stared at him and went off into a sudden guffaw. Razumihin stood facing him in gloomy and earnest reflection.

   "Of course, I am an ass," he observed, somber as a storm cloud, "but still . . . you are another."

   "No, brother, I am not dreaming of any folly."

   They walked along in silence, Razumihin broke the silence in considerable anxiety.

   "Listen, you're a first rate fellow, but among your other failings, you are a loose fish, that I know, and a dirty one, too. You are a feeble, nervous wretch, and a mass of whims, you're getting fat and lazy and can't deny yourself anything--and I call that dirty because that leads one straight into the dirt. You've let yourself go slack that I don't know how it is you  are still a good, even a devoted doctor. You--a doctor--sleep on a feather bed and get up late at night to your patients! In another three or four years you won't get up to see your patients, . . . But hang it all, that's not the point! . . . You are going to spend the night in the landlady's flat here. I'll be in the kitchen. So here's a chance to get to know her better. . . . It's not as you think! There's not a trace of anything of the sort, brother . . .!"

   "But I don't think!"

   "Here you have modesty, brother, silence, bashfulness, a savage virtue . . . and yet she's sighing and melting like wax, simply melting! Save me from her, by all that's unholy! She's most prepossing. . . . I'll repay you, I'll do anything. . . ."

   Zossimov laughed more violently than ever. "What am I to do with her?"

   "Ach, I can't make you understand! You see you are made for each other! I have often been reminded of you! . . . You'll come to it in the end! So does it matter whether it's sooner or later? There's the feather bed element here brother,--ach! and not only that! There's an attraction here--you have the end of the world, an anchorage, a quiet haven, the navel of the earth, the three fishes that are the foundation of the world, the essence of pancakes, of savoury fish-pies, of the evening, samovar, of soft sighs and warm shawls.


Tuesday, April 9, 2013


Change of shifts has old Glen discombobulated. Yep, I believe that be a word! But remember it don't have to be here on Glen View. I'll just make some up to fit whatever it is I do! I call it having fun, relaxation, writing what's on my mind.

Sleep patterns need to adjust, I might not be writing as much, OR maybe, I'll start posting more. Who The hell knows! Certainly not me as I write the newest page of the rest of my life.

Almost have another Crime And Punishment chapter done. That Razumihin is a character, this chapter is a real humdinger!

I have the feeling I'll have many new stories about some of the new characters in my workplace, especially truck drivers. I could use some new BUT real characters, to tickle my funny bone.

Please don't forget about me as I adjust to a new schedule. For any of you new readers I have almost 600 posts so you can visit many of my older post. Believe me when I say my mind is all over the board and the bestest way to get to know an old fart like me is to read them.


DISCOMBOBULATED, to upset the composure of; disconcert. (What the fricking shit does that mean?)

Damn it I been trying to quit using profanity, but No! (I'm #$%*ing more confused now, than before I looked up the damn word! That just pisses me off!)

I thought discombobulated meant screwed up, all over the place, senility, confused and so on and so forth, but no, now the dictionary has me more discombobulated than I already was AND old Glen don't need no more of that crappola!

DISCONCERT, to upset the composure of; embarrass; confuse. (Yep I can identify with this!)

IS IT JUST ME? (Probably!)

Discombobulated gives me disconcert. The word composure is used in both definitions. 

So let's throw out disconcert and composure, that leaves EMBARRASS and CONFUSED.


Sunday, April 7, 2013

Something Goofy Must Be In The Air!!!

The trees they are a budding, the bushes they are a blooming and them flowers are a popping, yes-sir-ree, spring has sprung, especially after a few warm 60 degree days and a high of 72 on Sunday! Two Sundays ago a storm brought several inches of snow, and now, um, um, um! Motorcycles are out in a plenty, smart one's wearing helmets, not so smart ones with hard heads, well I hope so anyway! People cleaning up their yards after the winter's blow, good-bye till next year old man winter! Springtime sun and flowers makes me want to yell thank you with all my might! Window down on my old van, breeze flowing through me hair. Makes me want to mow grass and I hate to mow grass. Something goofy fills the air, people washing their cars, walking in the park. Another world has popped open and I think I like it!

No, bees, no skeeters, soon my humming birds will be here. I love humming birds, a pure thing of simplistic beauty. I love all animals but something about them hummers, strikes a chord deep in my heart. Them little ones go so fast, them wings sure get a workout, don't they?

Baby chicks at the farm supply stores, in the pastures down on the farms are baby lambs, baby calves, new born horses, such a lovely delight, damn, damn, damn, it don't get no better than this!

Yeah, yeah, yer saying out there, "that old Glen's a big softie" yep I be, especially this time of the year! You know them cold winter days ain't good on arthritis, nope! People spreading the flu, colds ain't good for old Glen, huh, ah!

Warm breeze charges me batteries on me head, you know like these solar lights. It be like waking up one cold ass winter's morn, then going to bed and waking up the next morning on the Gulf Coast. Yep that's what it feels like I reckon to an old country boy! Me and Missy took us a right nice ride them farmers are out working their fields, soon little seeds be pushing through the brown dirt turning into green, green, wonderful fields of corn, the giver of life from the giver of life, yep right beautiful if ya think about it!

I'm so sorry for feeling so damn good after a winter of illness and discontent, excuse me for letting it show!

I reckon I wear my heart on my sleeve and I'm not ashamed to let you know. Sweet dreams until next time my friends.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Neighborhood 4/07/13

How are my friends? My brothers and sisters! Having been posting as much as I'd like to, but hey you know things happen. My goal is to finish Crime And Punishment by the end of the year. By the way how do you like that character Razumihin? He "wears his heart on his sleeve," so to speak. I like that, he's the kind of friends we could use more of. We're right into the book now with plenty more good stuff to go.

To those of you that haven't read many of my post. I'm an old man that loves this book, so much so, I decide to summarize and discuss things in this book, maybe give opinions once in a while. Don't rightly know why I want to do this, I just know I do! Anyhow  the book can be a tricky read and I'm trying to make it more understandable without ruining this masterpiece.

I had plan to add more of my thoughts and opinions but for some reasons I haven't done as mush as I thought I would. There's plenty left and possibly I will, I'm "winging" it so to speak!

I have been receiving extra hits from around the world and I thank y'all from the depths of an old man's heart. I only took up writing a couple years ago, never typed before, never used a computer. I use to be a hands on kind a guy, fixing pretty much anything around the house, you know like working with my hands. Well I suppose when you grow up poor you have to learn to do things out of necessity, don't you? "Hell yes!" I remember making money any way I could as a young in. Had me a paper route, then worked part-time in a restaurant during high school.

I did not excel in school after seventh grade. My closest friend, my grandpa died you see. My dad had many problems the love of the all addicting bottle being one of many. He basically had a good heart but many accumulated demons in his life-time ate him up from the inside.

My mother still alive "an angel here on earth." If not for her . . . lord telling where I'd be.

Two brothers and two sisters that managed to get enough of mothers qualities to be sound, good citizens.

Reminiscing a wee bit why? "Hell old Glen don't know! He just opens his mind and let's the keyboard take over, yep that really is the truth, if you have read many of my post besides C, A, P.  ya know that's true.

This most enjoyable passion of mine happened real late in life. "I reckon the old saying "it's never too late to teach a old dog new tricks is correct." I be an old human am and venturing into an unknown world. It's so @#%^ing fun, sometimes I can't stand it!!! Why? Well finding an avenue of expression in a topsy turvy world where people don't really care, to hear, NOR listen to what people say is a darn shame!


Damn, you people out there ask some tough ass questions!

I'm old-fashion and am as proud as I can be of that! I believe I have learned more than any books can fill one's head with, by listening. That's saying a heap because I have been hard of hearing all my life. Yep, but don't y'all feel sorry for old Glen none, uh-huh! I'm also an observer a lover of learning, questioning, and thinkin. (I know it's suppose to be thinking, but yer here on Glen View now, so don't get all riled up, just go with me, let the flow take us where I haven't gone before. That's my favoritiest, funnest, most terrifical, thing to do is simple being me ya see!!!! 

I throw properness out the backdoor with trash, yep I gotta, be me, ya see!

I have written some stories with an endless supply locked deep inside the caverns of my mind.

Teaching me-self to type is the hardest thing this here old boy has ever done. DAMN! Getting me clumsy old fingers and me senile old mind to working together, wow, weren't easy. The post that took me several hours to type has improved drastically, and I believe the Crime And Punishment summary is somehow meant to be to help me improve both in typing and writing skills.

Well my passion has only just begun. please ride along with me, as an old fart ventures into, insanity, senility, whatever!

I do know that my quest to re-read and work on this book is a have too deal, to go any farther in my escapades in pecking away at this here keyboard!

I will be going back to day shift as of Monday after 10 years of working the graveyard shift. Maybe I won't feel like a vampire then. Springtime, the rejuvenation of life, soul, mind well let's just wait and see where this new chapter in me life goes. I hope you stay with me and once again thank you very much from the "cockles of my heart." (I've heard that phrase but maybe I best look up that word cockles it doesn't sound too pretty, does it??


Wednesday, April 3, 2013

(25) C. P. Part 3 (Chapter I)

   Raskolnikov waved weakly to Razumihin to stop the incoherent consolations he was giving his mother and sister, took them both by the hand and gazed at then without speaking. His mother was alarmed by his expression, it revealed something immovable to her almost insane! Pulcheria began to cry.

   Dounia was pale; her hand trembled in her brothers.

   "Go home . . . with him," he said in a broken voice, pointing to Razumihin, "goodbye till to-morrow; tomorrow everything . . . . Is it long since you arrived?"

   "This evening, Rodya." answered his mother, "the train was awfully late. But Rodya, nothing would make me leave you know! I will spend the night here, near you. . . ."

   "Don't torture me !" he said with irritation.

   "I will stay with him," cried Razumihin, "I won't leave him for a moment.

   "How, can I think you!" Pulcheria said, taking Razumihin's hand, but Raskolnikov interrupted.

   "I can't have it! Don't worry me! Enough go away. . . . I can't stand it!"

   "Come, mamma, we are distressing him," Dounia whispered in dismay.

   "I've not looked at him in three years!" wept Pulcheria.

   "Stay," he stopped them again, "you keep interrupting me, and my thoughts get muddled. . . . Have you seen Luzhin?"

   "No, Rodya, but he knows of our arrival, We have heard, Rodya that Pyotr Luuzhin was so kind to visit you to-day," Pulcheria said somewhat timidly.

   "Yes . . . he was so kind . . . Dounia, I promised Luzhin I'd throw him downstairs and told him to go to hell. . . . "

   "Rodya, surely you don't mean to tell us . . ." Pulcheria began in alarm, she stopped looking at Dounia.

   Dounia was looking attentively at her brother, waiting for what comes next, Both of them had heard of the quarrel from Nastasya, she had told them all about it.

   "Dounia," Raskolnikov said with effort, "I don't want that marriage, you must refuse, so that we never hear his name again."

   "Good heavens!" cried his mother.

   "Brother think about what you are saying!" cried Douia. "You are not fit to talk now, you are tired!"

   "You think I am delirious? No. . . . You are marrying Luzhin for my sake. I won't accept the sacrifice, you must write a letter tomorrow reusing him. Let me read it in the morning and that will be the end of it!"

   "That I can't do, what right do you have," cried Dounia.

   "Dounia, you are too hasty, be quiet, tomorrow. . . ."

   "Better come away," said Pulcheria.

   "He is raving," Razumihin cried tipsily, or how would he dare! To-morrow all this nonsense will be over. . . . To-day he certainly did drive him away, That was so. And Luzhin got angry too. . . . He made speeches here, wanted to show of his learning and he went out crest fallen. . . ."

   "Then it's true?" cried Pulcheria.

   "Good-bye until to-morrow, brother,"said Dounia compassionately--"let us go, mother. . . . Good-bye Rodya."

   "Do you hear sister," he repeated after them, making a last effort, "I am not delirious; this marriage is--an infamy. Let me act like a scoundrel, but you mustn't . . . one is enough sister. It's me or Luzhin! Go now. . . ."

   "But your out of your mind!" roared Razumihin; Rakolnikov did not or could not answer. He lay down on the sofa exhausted. Dounia looked with interest at Razumihin; her black eyes flashed; Razumihin was taken by her glance.    

   Pulcheria stood overwhelmed.

   "Nothing would induce me to go," she whispered in despair to Razumihin. "I will stay here . . . escort Dounia home."

   "You'll spoil everything," Razumihin answered in the same whisper, losing patience--"come out to the stairs. Nastasya show a light! I assure you," he went on in a half-whisper on the stairs--"that he was almost beating the doctor and me this afternoon! The doctor himself gave way so as to not irritate him. I remained on guard but he dressed and slipped off. He will slip off again if you irritate him."

   "What are you saying?"

   "Your daughter can't be left in those lodgings without you."

   "I'll go to the landlady here and ask for somewhere to spend the night for Dounia and me. I can't leave him like that, I cannot!"

   This conversation was taking place on the landing outside the landlady's door. Razumihin was in extraordinary excitement. Earlier while bringing Raskolnikov home he talked freely but was aware of himself despite the quantity of drink. Now he was in a state bordering ecstasy, all he had drunk seemed to fly to his head  with redoubled effect. He stood with the two ladies, seizing both by their hands, persuading them, and giving them reasons with astonishing plainness of speech, and at almost every word he uttered, probably to emphasize his arguments, he squeezed their hands painfully as in a vice. He stared at them without the least regard to manners. They sometimes pulled their hands away, but far from noticing he drew them closer to him. If they'd told him to jump head first from the staircase, he would have done it without thought or hesitation in their service. Though Pulcheria thought the young man was really too eccentric, and pinched her hand too much, in her anxiety over her Rodya she looked on his presence as providential, and was unwilling to notice all his peculiarities. Dounia shared her anxiety, she could not see the glowing light in his eyes without wonder and alarm. It was the unbounded confidence inspired by Nastasya's account of her brother's queer friend, prevented her from running away from him, and convincing her mother to do the same. Ten minutes later, she was reassured; it was characteristic of Razumihin that he showed his true nature at once, whatever mood he might be in, so that people quickly saw the sort of man they had to deal with.

   "You can't go to the landlady that's perfect nonsense!" he cried. "If you stay, even though you are his mother, you'll drive him to a frenzy! I'll tell you what I'll do: Nastasya will stay with him now, I'll take you both home, you can't be in the streets alone! I'll run straight back here and in a quarter of an hour later, on my word of honour, I'll bring you news of how he is and all that. Then I'll fetch the doctor and let you know what he says. If there's anything wrong I'll bring you here, but if he is all right you go to bed. I'll spend the night here in the passage. Do you trust me, or not?"

   "Let us go mother," said Dounia, he will certainly do what he has promised. He has saved Rodya already."

   "You understand me, because you are an angel!" Razumihin cried in an ecstasy, "let us go Nastasya! Fly upstairs and sit with him; I'll come back in a quarter of an hour."    To continue.


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Glen's Neighborhood 4/03/13 ("I is what I is.")

Seems my old wagon wheels are riding out of the ruts. I can most assuredly live with that! Ya see I can live right nicely without the highs and lows. I'll take a partially cloudy day over clear and sunny. Yes-sir-ree! It be them damn dark and rainy days that this old boy don't want nothing to do with, no more!

You might say, "that's not living!" I say, "is to me." I have seen and experienced enough of the good times. On the flip side, them lows are too much for me anymore! I want to ride out my remaining years relatively peaceful. If I'm peaceful, I'm happy! Them euphoric highs are too hard on my heart, just as them lowly lows are too much for my heart. I can write on me computer, or curl up with a good book such as my current one that I'm posting and be as close to heaven as this old boy will ever get!

Why not enjoy heaven here and now. That's the secret, enjoy the fine moments that go overlooked, every day. I know one thing for absolute certainty. "My biggest enemy has always been myself!" Sure enough! Ah, but how do we change who we are? We can never change who we are! We have made our-self, by simply being our-self. Now we must forgive our-self for being not what we want to be.

To make a home within our human mind. Remember this line from Popeye The Sailor Man. "I am what I am!"

To repeat that in Glen's words, "I is what I is!"

We can lose weight, gain weight, wear all kinds of clothing, try all the self-help, meditation, religions, take drugs, drink, the list is endless. We can never escape "who's we is!"

I'm going to use myself as an example. I had to fight to get a job that was promised to me the first week of November. During five months of patience, numerous conversations, misunderstandings, poor communication, etc. I start my job on April eighth. The excitement of accepting the job has been erased and permanent scars have been etched, both in mind and heart.

After a meeting with several superiors and me finalizing with handshakes did I finally clear up and get a job promised to me five months ago!

What was the emotions of a 61 year old man? Happiness no! Did not feel like high fives all around! Contentment no!

I went back to doing maintenance on a machine, after about fifteen minutes my eyes became red and I shed tears. I had to go to the bathroom to regain my composure. Seems the fact that closure to this problem caused tears to flow from an old man people might consider a hard ass. Took me by surprise but tears of closure are important.

I learn every moment of every day. I will until the last beautiful sunset of my life. We must have closure to turn the next, new page of our lives. I have been through many things, good and bad and devastating, just like all of you out there, I'm no different than you. To suffer, to laugh, to cry is human.

I'm not completely sure why I'm saying this. I reckon my release is what your reading right now. Maybe is meant to be! Sharing of emotions, stories, laughter, sadness, well just seems so right in this day of generic substitutions and hollow emotions and synthetic falsified world!!!! Goodnight my friends.